


Elysian

by sloanesaysno



Series: soigné [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Are they really just fuck buddies, Dominant Valerius (The Arcana), F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Really Unrequited Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual arrangements, Submissive Valerius, Unrequited Love, Valerius is IN LOVE, bam - Freeform, he hopes not, implied toxic relationships, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloanesaysno/pseuds/sloanesaysno
Summary: She fell into his lap so prettily, but he didn’t expect to fall for her.
Relationships: Apprentice/Valerius (The Arcana), Lucio/Valerius (The Arcana), Valerius (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Valerius (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: soigné [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571101
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. ophelia;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia’s made of smoke and mirrors.

_she’s always the enigma, the puzzle_

_because her hands could love a storm_

_and turn it into summer rain_

_her hands could hold a block of ice_

_and melt it like a summer day_

_her hands spelled love and warmth and home_

_while her heart could cut diamonds and daggers_

_it could beat men and women senseless like a stone_

_because the question she begs to ask is_

_how do you love when you’re doomed to be alone?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will romance you the way Valerius romances Ophelia (unceasingly and kinda dramatic) if you leave a comment below. If you opt for a kudos, well... my love is unconditional.


	2. matutine;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerius thinks of Ophelia.

She doesn’t kiss him on the mouth, but her hands are made of solid worship. 

Sometimes he lies under her and bares himself, walking the sharp edge between numbing pleasure and blinding pain. He’s pliant and placid, like the halcyon sun in the mornings. And other times, she lets him spoil her to no end, to no end at all with bruising kisses and red hot skin.

Her eyes are warm and full of something that could be mistaken for love. Her smile is indulgent and caring, beautiful and something good. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 

But no one ever told him that she could be _any_ of those things but love.

Her hands are a lover’s caress and a gentle touch— she’s not like his previous lovers who had heavy hands and stinging words. If he’s not careful, history might repeat itself. But she teaches him to be cautious and caring and  loving and kind.  She praises him and sometimes, he wonders if she’s lying because she says the most beautiful things.

A man with an arm made of gold and a heart made of stone has cursed him to high heaven,  and made him feel proud of it. How much lower can he sink? She raises him up.

Her mouth when her back is on his bed is sweet and her words drip with honey and sugar and all things nice. Her hands are made of god’s gold and when they brand his corrupted skin, her kisses sooth and cool the fire his pagan love burns when her worship touches him. He revels in the dark mornings when the sun hasn’t peeked awake, because the closer dawn becomes, the more he realizes that it’s just his borrowed time with her.

She’s different when she’s not baring all of herself to him. This is when she is quiet and polite, when she can hide those razor sharp smiles. Her fingers deftly take notes and create fire, and he remembers feeling those fingers on his skin. This is when the curve of her jaw and her slim neck is covered by silky cloth, not so unlike the times when she is covered by the thousand thread silk blankets on his bed.

Her whispers bring him to the brink and his touch leaves her undone. She unravels like a spool of golden thread, falling apart at his touch. 

He’s greedy for power and her mouth, and her love, and he can depose of the count and manipulate all the country but he can’t do it to her.

If he was desperate enough, he could threaten her and she’d give in because she succumbs to threats and anger. But her eyes could set glaciers aflame and he’s not in the mood to fight fire with fire.

When she slinks into his bedroom, his hold on her tightens. He tries to forget that she leaves her heart in her bed chambers, and that she sneaks out when the moon cracks into a golden, sunny yolk.

He wakes up in the mornings alone, and he thinks, that yes, he wishes she would carry all of herself to his chambers, and make his lonely chest her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll love you as much as Valerius loves Ophelia if you leave a comment, but I’ll love you nonetheless if you settle for a kudos.

**Author's Note:**

> This is... wow. My first work. Ever. Please comment and send some constructive criticism down in the comments, and leave a kudos if it hits you just the right way.


End file.
